


Just Breathe

by lukenosis



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, Angst, Borderline Personality Disorder, Child Abuse, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Dear god so much angst, Depression, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Eating Disorders, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Hospital, Mental Illness, Mental Institutions, Recreational Drug Use, Schizophrenia, Self-Harm, Sexual Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, bipolar, but not for awhile because there's so much other shit going on, eventually there will be smut, like seriously, trigger warning, triggering content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-23 08:44:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2541467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lukenosis/pseuds/lukenosis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>can two broken teenagers make each other whole? (this is lashton focused, maybe some side malum)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot stress this enough that there is triggering content. Please read the tags, and if any of that material is remotely triggering for you than I suggest not reading this. Everything will be dealt with quite intensely, I am almost into my third year studying psychology, all topics will be treated maturely and with respect, but they will also be quite graphic in nature. 
> 
> Viewer discretion is advised.

  
It’s 1:17am in the morning and I am not asleep, no. I’m standing in my bathroom staring at the face in the mirror that I can no longer for the life of me recognise as my own. My hair’s an absolute mess; it’s sticking out all over the place from tossing and turning in the hopes of finding some sleep. I can’t remember the last time I got a proper nights rest. The circles underneath my eyes are getting a shade darker each day and they’re really starting to compliment the emptiness that’s in my eyes.

I can’t bare to look at my reflection any longer, so I tear my eyes away and glance down at the pill bottle that’s in my hand – _Valium_ – I know, it’s such a clichéd drug to overdose on, but its all my mother had and I don’t want to wait any longer in the hopes that I could maybe acquire something stronger. I take a deep breath and twist off the childproof cap, god it’s a lot more difficult than it should be. My hands are sweaty and I’m shaking. I’m shaking so bad right now. To say that I’m nervous would be a grave understatement.

The lids finally off and I pour some of the contents of the bottle into my palm. I stare down at the pills for I don’t know how long until I’m interrupted by my vision going blurry – tears – I’m crying even after I promised myself that I wouldn’t. I can feel the tears start to streak down my face as a sob wracks my body. I can't believe that this is really going to happen, this is really the end.

With a shaky breath I grab the already opened bottle of vodka from the bathroom counter with my other hand, tipping my head back I take as large of a mouthful as I can. It burns, god does it burn, and more tears prickle my eyes. I screw them shut trying to prevent any more tears from falling. I pull the bottle away from my lips and bring my hand holding some of the pills up to my mouth; I toss them back and take an even larger gulp of the vodka. It still burns all the same.

I repeat these steps over and over until one third of the bottle has disappeared, and not one pill remains in the container. I’m crying again, but by now I can hardly see straight, my vision’s blurry, my head is pounding and I feel like throwing up for days. I sag my body against the wall for support, but seconds later I’m sliding down the wall and onto the floor. My eyelids are growing heavier and heavier, and it doesn’t take much longer before the darkness is welcoming me. I can’t believe that this is finally happening, everything’s finally over.  


* * *

  
“Ashton, sweetie can you hear me?”

“Ashton?”

There are noises and I want nothing more than for them to go away, my head feels as if someone decided that it was a good idea to repetitively slam a crowbar into it. My eyelids feel too heavy to be able to open them, and my mouth feels as if it’s stuffed with cotton balls. What the hell happened to me? Where am I?

_Oh._

It all comes flooding back to me now. The vodka, the pills – the suicide attempt. The _failed_ suicide attempt, that means I must be in the hospital. I can hear muffled voices and what sounds like a constant beeping noise. I’m definitely in the hospital, no no no. This isn’t supposed to happen like this. I’m not supposed to be waking up in the hospital; I’m not supposed to be waking up at all. I’m supposed to be dead!

“Ashton can you hear me?”

I force myself to open my eyes and at first I’m blinded by how bright the lights are, but I can make out what looks to be my mother and a doctor.

“Oh Ashton, thank god!” I hear my mother say as she flings herself at me, wrapping her arms around me and sobbing. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

I don’t know what to say so I just remain silent in her embrace.

“You really gave us a scare there sweetie.” She says as she lets go of me, ruffling my hair as she stands back next to the doctor again.

“Ashton, I’m Dr Brenner, I was one of the doctors who treated you in emergency when you first came in last night. That was quite an overdose you had, but thankfully we were able to treat you in time before any damage could be done.”

 _Oh. Yeah. Thankfully._ I silently think.

“But what you did was a pretty serious thing. I’ve been talking about it with your mum while you were asleep and we’ve both come to the decision that we think that it’s best that you seek some help for what you’re going through.”

I laugh at that, “You want me to see a shrink?”

“We think it’s best if you get admitted into the youth mental health ward here in the hospital for a little while, just to get you back on your feet.” This doctor has to be out of his mind, mental health ward? You have to be kidding me.

“You want to commit me?” I’m not laughing anymore. “You can’t be serious? Mum? You agree with this?” I look at my mother who’s remained silent so far.

“Sweetie we just want to help you–” I cut her off.

“You want to help me? By locking me up in some nut house? I’m not crazy!” I can’t believe that they actually want to do this. “I’ll see a shrink, like once a week or something, I’ll go to therapy, just please don’t lock me up.”

“Ashton, we’re not sending you to some _nut house_. It’s just an adjacent ward to this hospital where there are other teens your age that are going through similar circumstances. It’s a safe environment, with very qualified staff available at all hours. Your mother and I believe that this will be the most beneficial for you.”

“What if I refuse?”

“Then I’ll be forced to admit you involuntarily. It’s a lot easier of a process if you willingly sign yourself in and agree to get help. I still consider you a danger to yourself, and therefore if you refuse to help yourself, I will have no other choice but to force you to be admitted.”

I hate this doctor.

“I packed you a bag with some clothes and toiletries. Ashton, I really do believe that this will help you, please just agree to go in voluntarily.” My mother pleads.

“Fine.” I say, but I am anything but fine with this.  


* * *

  
A few hours later and I’m discharged from the medical ward and being walked down to where the mental health ward is located. My mother’s still with me, Dr Brenner had left a while ago to go treat other patients, so a nurse is escorting us.

It’s not long until we approach a sign that reads “Child and Youth Mental Health Ward” with an arrow pointing in the direction of a nurses station. The nurse that’s escorting us takes us up to the desk, hands over some pieces of paper that are most likely my medical records from the emergency department.

“This is Ashton Irwin, he’s to be admitted here. Dr Brenner should have called down and mentioned something about it before?” The nurse asks.

“Ah yes, Ashton, we’ve been expecting you. Is this your first time being admitted before?” The lady behind the desk asks me, smiling a little too cheerily.  

“Yes, it’s my first time here.” I say. 

“Okay then, I just have some paper work for you to fill out. It’s just a basic questionnaire for you to answer regarding your thoughts and feelings.” She says handing me a clipboard, said questionnaire and a pen. “If you could just take a seat and fill it out over there, I’ll just talk to your mum about what to expect.”

I take the clipboard and walk over to one of the uncomfortable plastic hospital chairs; once I’ve sat down I scan through the piece of paper that has a sticker on it up the top with my name and hospital admission ID number.

My answers lacked much variety; nearly all of them were the “applies to me almost always” option. _I felt that I had nothing to look forward to, I felt that life was meaningless, I felt I wasn’t worth much as a person, I was unable to become enthusiastic about anything, I couldn’t seem to experience any positive feelings._

They’re going to think I’m insane and lock me up forever. I should’ve lied about a few of these answers, but it’s too late now as they’re circled in pen. Sighing, I get back up and go over to hand the sheet of paper back to the nurse.

“Excellent, thank you. I was just telling your mum that you’ll most likely be participating in group therapy and having individual sessions with a psychiatrist once or twice a week, and once we believe that you’re no longer at risk to yourself you’ll be discharged. You hopefully won’t be here that long.” The nurse says taking the piece of paper from me and placing it inside a manila folder that also has the same sticker on it.

“Ashton could you please raise your arm?” The nurse asks, getting something out of a drawer that she just placed the folder inside.

I raise my arm in front of her with a confused look, and she snaps a red hospital bracelet on me next to the white one that I’m already wearing. I assume it’s to let everyone know that I’m a patient in the mental health ward. I know it’s just a hospital bracelet, but it makes me feel as if I’ve been branded as insane.

“Say goodbye to your mum now, and I’ll go get another patient down to show you around the place.” The nurse says leaving her desk, most likely going off to get the person she just mentioned.

I can feel tears springing to my eyes. This is becoming too real; I’m actually being admitted into a mental hospital. _Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry._

“Aw sweetie don’t cry, you’ll be out of here before you know it.” My mum says embracing me in a hug. I can feel the tears begin to streak down my face.

“I don’t wan to be here, please take me home.” I sob, I know there’s no use asking, this is no longer up to my mum or me, but I do anyway. “Please.” I beg.

“Hunny I wish I could take you home. But the doctor thinks this will help, and I just want you to get better. I’ll come and visit when I can, try and make this work and you’ll be out of here in no time.”

I pull out of her embrace and quickly wipe the tears from my face with my sleeve as I hear footsteps approaching me from behind. I sniffle and turn around to face the nurse from before and a boy who looks around my age with black hair that has different shades of blue and purple through it.

“Ashton, this is Michael he’s going to be showing you around.” The nurse says as she walks back around the desk she was sitting at before.

“Hi.” Michael says holding his hand up in a motionless wave.

“Hey.” I reply doing the same, he indicates for me to follow him, so I turn around to my mum. “Bye, I love you. Call when you can.” I quickly say to her before I head off following Michael down a corridor. I hear her say she loves me too.

“So Janet, the nurse you were just speaking to says that you’re in room 2B so I’ll take you there first so you can put your bag down and then I’ll show you around the place.” I can hear the hesitation in his voice, as if there’s something more he wants to tell me but doesn’t think that he should.

“Okay thanks, sounds good.”

It’s not long before we’re at a door that says 2A – 2B, I assume this means that I have a roommate. Michael knocks on the door and when there’s no answer he opens it to find it empty, but by the look of the place I definitely have a roommate. The right side of the room is bare besides the bed, bedside table and dresser, whereas on the right side the furniture is the same, except there’s maroon bed sheets instead of the hospital white ones that are on mine. There are posters of various bands on the wall, various random items on the bedside table and there’s a pair of black converse at the foot of the bed.

“We have roommates?” I question the obvious. “I mean, what’s mine’s name?”

“Luke.” Is all that Michael says, and I can sense that hesitation in his voice again.

“What’s he like?” I probe. I probably shouldn’t, but if I’m going to be locked up with this guy I’d like to know whether or not he’s a serial killer or something.

“Eh. I don’t talk to him much; he’s not really that friendly of a person. He barely talks to any of the other kids in here, and when he does he’s normally being kind of a jerk. I would advise to limit your time socialising with him and definitely try not to piss the kid off.” I sense there’s more to it, but I won’t ask just yet.

“Not sure how well I can limit my socialising with him as it looks like I’ll be basically living with him. But if you suggest so I guess that I can try to.” I say placing my bag on my bed and turning around to follow Michael out of the room.

“Oh, I definitely suggest it.” He says closing the door to my new bedroom.


End file.
